


You Are the Lover of My Impossible Soul

by theonlywaterintheforest



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:19:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5281778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonlywaterintheforest/pseuds/theonlywaterintheforest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of ficlets relating to the Doctor (in more than one regeneration) and River Song. </p><p>Latest Ficlet: "His Body Always Kept Mine Inside It": He had been over the moon all day—maybe a little dazed, but he was elated to see her again. One thousand and forty-four years, he had said with a voice that sounded like someone has stolen the air from his lungs, followed by a kiss that took her breath away as well.</p><p>He whispered again, just as softly as the last. “You can’t be real.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Bring You My History That I Expect Your Tender Arms Around Me

**Author's Note:**

> Ficlet collection title from "Impossible Soul" by Sufjan Stevens.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that the universe and Christmas are saved yet again, the Doctor and River can finally discuss the circumstances surrounding their wedding rings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the photos released on November 23, 2015, which shows that River is now wearing a wedding band as well. 
> 
> Chapter title from "Goods" by iamamiwhoami.

It was the day after Christmas, and River Song and the Doctor found themselves in a cozy Parisian café they had a habit of frequenting. She was shocked to find him already nostalgic, and not just for their former haunt: he had requested they go somewhere where it was still Christmas, at least just for lunch. River had felt a warmth radiate in her chest at the thought of him wanting to linger in the afterglow of their unexpected reunion. _Linger._ Him, of all people. She decided she couldn’t object to it as it would only be so long before one or both of them got bored of Christmas. She was the same woman and deep down he was the same man, after all.

 

At the request of the Doctor, they sat at a two-person table in front of the large windows. This was an abnormal request for him, as his previous face had always wanted a large, circular booth in the back corner of the restaurant. He liked this one because it was private enough for his hands to wander, but his inner child also liked having to scoot across so much booth to get to the center, to be the king of the table large enough to seat eight. River suspected that there were a couple reasons for this face to change preferences: a two-person table meant he’d always be looking at her, and the view outside the café was hard to beat, especially now. It had snowed lightly for Christmas this particular year, so the bright white string lights and evergreen decorations on this already charming cobblestone back street were made even more beautiful.

 

After placing their food order and receiving their drinks (she was pleasantly surprised to see him order a stout, and she let him know it), River grilled her husband about this regeneration’s changes as they hadn’t had time the day before. He was open to giving out details about what annoyed him and the foods he enjoyed this time around, but kept avoiding questions about companions, darting around them as quickly as possible with another topic already in hand. He always shifted uncomfortably in his seat, burying his chin as far into his large wool scarf  as possible until River allowed the change of subject. After her third attempt, she realized that he didn’t just lose a companion: he had _lost_ one. This time she was the one who changed the subject, but she did reach for his left hand, which had been pressed heavily to the table in an attempt to keep painful memories from escaping. He obviously wasn’t ready to talk about it yet and she wasn’t about to press him, but she wanted to let him know she understood his hesitation and apologized for making him relive it. She tenderly ran her nails along his palm while he cleared his throat and answered her question. In one particularly long streak, two of her nails brushed over the double-stacked golden bands on his hand. He abruptly stopped talking and darted his glaze up to her, a soft smirk creeping across his weathered face.

 

They had acknowledged the rings the night before, but didn’t exactly have the time to really talk about it, having been interrupted by enemy fire (River later let them have some of her fury in retribution for ruining the moment). They remembered late at night, but after they both in the process of being taken by sleep. When he wrapped his arm around her and the rings bumped against each other, they only had the energy to grumble out one “sentimental idiot” followed by a “you have room to talk” before they succumbed to slumber. River now gently flipped his hand over and then lifted it so she could get a better look at it. He wore twin gold bands with a large, raised green stone that looked so familiar.

 

She started reaching to remove it from his finger. “Doctor, this is—“

 

“Stop,” he interrupted. She left her fingers placed on the ring but did not move it and offered him a raised eyebrow instead. “I never remove it.”

 

The eyebrow lifted higher. “Ever?”

 

“No,” he purred with the kind of devotion that instantly buzzed around her every corner and curve. She tried her hardest not to gasp out loud.

 

“My point from last night still stands: sentimental idiot,” she pointed out, removing her fingers from the ring and moving the hand closer to her face instead. She went back to the thought she had before he interrupted her. “Is this where I think it’s from?”

 

“Did you not just call me sentimental?” he mused.

 

When they got married the first time, neither of them were the ring-wearing type. Instead, on a belated honeymoon to Piffalan, the Doctor surprised her with a peridot-colored pendant on a platinum chain. He cashed in on an old favor to get her one of the most rare and most coveted gems in the galaxy, which contained flecks of an ancient meteor that still shimmered when you removed the light source. The stone came in many colors, but he would later admit he picked the olive-green stone because he had always thought she looked best in a dress she wore when they were working to take down the Silents in 1969, and they were very similar in color. And here he was now, a softer set of hearts who caved and got a ring, one that was adorned in the same stone he had given her so long ago.

 

She had to ask: “So, do you owe the Piffal a new favor?” she questioned, looking up through her eyebrows.

 

“Yes,” he sighed. “I’m really not looking forward to it. They’re very demanding when it comes to payback. Worth it, though. Absolutely worth it.”

 

And with that he reached for her hand. Hers was far more simple, just a slightly imperfect gold band that was noticeably handmade. She didn’t want something that would catch on things as that just interfered with her many lines of work. Besides, fancy jewelry was for fancy occasions, not everyday wear.

 

“Do not throw up a wall on me, _wife._ Where did you get this?”

 

 _Dammit,_ she said to herself. This Doctor was much more attentive, more willing to be constantly connected to her, right there in her mind. She welcomed this, but she would have to work much more carefully on keeping him from seeing the things he would disapprove of. Like this.

 

“Do you want the Doctor-approved answer or the truth?”

 

“ _River.”_

“What do you expect? How long have you known me?” she snapped in a whisper, having noticed that the table of two women beside them was now trying to pay attention to their small spat.

 

He took a very large swig of his stout, one that required him to use the back of his hand to wipe his lips. “Go on, give me the truth.”

 

Without hesitation, she gave him the truth. “King Yestar.”

 

Ooh, she _liked_ this one when he was cross. The way his jaw set and his eyes hardened and those lovely angry eyebrows knitted together—

 

“You _stole_ someone _else’s_ wedding _ring.”_

“He had a new wife every year!” she hissed quickly, still trying to keep their neighbors from overhearing their conversation. “And as Nibastan years are shorter than earth ones, that’s a _lot_ of wives. Besides, this one was dead, anyhow.”

 

Maybe she shouldn’t have included that last line because he cocked his head to the side and jammed his eyes shut, which exaggerated every line in his face. “River. _River._ A symbol that on many planets follow earth’s promise of ‘til death do us part’, _and you got it from someone who had died.”_

Well, she hadn’t quite thought of that. Besides, the previous owner had died, and therefore she could part from it. It still worked.

 

“Before you get too mad at me, how about you take that ring off— _temporarily!”_ she spat defensively, being able to feel a dash of betrayal from him. “ _Temporarily,_ and take a look at the inside.”

 

Keeping his irritated eyes locked on hers, he slowly removed the band and then held it in front of his face. He then tilted it on an angle, letting the overhead light catch the inner rim of the ring. It was a deep, royal shade of purple, and included a small engraving of five left-leaning slashes with a triangle in the center. She knew by his slow intake of breath that he recognized it.

 

When River was young—so very, very young—a lot of their adventures together also included her parents at their side. She knew now that there wasn’t just one reason for bringing her parents along every time, but back then she was sure it was just because she was unapologetically flirty and would do anything to get what she wanted, so Amy and Rory acted as a protective barrier to prevent him from caving into her every command. Their first time out on their own was to Nibastan, where they thwarted the assassination attempt on the future queen made by King Yestar’s last queen. This future queen was the woman who wore that ring. This outing wasn’t just special because it was their first alone, but also because this was the first time she truly let herself _feel_ him, and she would admit to herself that she did truly love him with both her hearts.

 

River reminisced fondly of that first tender kiss, how she could still feel the electricity in her hearts after all these years, but was knocked out of her trance when the Doctor cleared his throat. She saw his eyes were a bit watery as he very slowly and very deliberately placed the ring back on her finger. He then gently brought her hand up so he could kiss her knuckles and then the late queen’s band, keeping a rather love-soaked gaze on her the whole time. River gasped in spite of herself, but also heard a small noise to her left. Both she and the Doctor turned to their neighboring table, which had ditched the secretive eavesdropping and were now unabashedly facing the two of them. One woman had her hand over her heart and the other had a large, knowing grin on her face.

 

River and the Doctor both laughed and turned back to their table, bending over further so they were closer to each other. The Doctor held out his hand in request for her right hand and she gently placed it in his. “Okay, I am famished, but how about we do _this_ all over again, after we eat?”

 

She couldn’t help it: she giggled again. “You want to renew our vows.”

 

“I want to be the one who puts that ring on your finger for the last time,” he said firmly, trying to show how serious he was.

 

River smirked and said, “You do realize this means you will have to take that ring off for the first time in—“

 

“—One hundred and eighty-six years,” he finished, his words now breathless as he realized she wanted to do this as well. “And I will, just this once. And never again.”

 

“You better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we saw Twelve's ring in season 8, I had started work on a fic (that I have sadly never finished) that contained the honeymoon pendant moment mentioned in this story. The pendant has always been peridot in color because that dress was my favorite of River's. It was just an insane coincidence that the stone in Twelve's ring happened to be the same color. 
> 
> And yes, Twelve's insistence that he will never remove the ring is based on Capaldi's refusal to remove his own wedding band for roles.


	2. His Body Always Kept Mine Inside It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had been over the moon all day—maybe a little dazed, but he was elated to see her again. One thousand and forty-four years, he had said with a voice that sounded like someone has stolen the air from his lungs, followed by a kiss that took her breath away as well. 
> 
> He whispered again, just as softly as the last. “You can’t be real.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A man can't be separated from his wife for a millennium, certain he'll never see her again, and not think it's all too good to be true when she waltzes back into his life. Takes place after all the mayhem they'll have on Christmas. 
> 
> Chapter title from "Home" by Daughter.

With her husband’s hand held tightly in her own, River entered the TARDIS for the first time in two months—or the first time in a millennium, depending on whom you asked. She took in the blue box’s new control room design, which was much warmer than it had ever been before, glowing in bright oranges and intense reds with cozy features strewn about. But she wasn’t here to see how he had redecorated. She had a new husband to welcome home. She set her sights on a staircase she knew lead out of the control room, but the Doctor had stopped just inside the doorway, and she couldn’t go any further than the first stair.

 

“No,” the Doctor said with noticeable pain in his voice.

 

She turned back to him, still holding his hand. His great eyebrows were furrowed over sad eyes. He had been smiling and laughing just a few minutes before. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

 

He opened his mouth to speak but promptly shut it. Instead, he huffed and shook his head slowly. She released his hand and closed the space between them, rising up on her toes to kiss his nose. He closed his eyes tightly and kept them like that as he slowly breathed out.

 

It was then she noticed he had been closed off from her and he had been the entire day. His last face sometimes had a problem with keeping his thoughts open to her, but he very rarely closed himself completely, and never when he was as happy as he was earlier. “Tell me, Doctor. Please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

 

“You,” he finally whispered so quietly River barely heard him. His eyes were still closed.

 

She didn’t respond because she didn’t know how. He had been over the moon all day—maybe a little dazed, but he was elated to see her again. One thousand and forty-four years, he had said with a voice that sounded like someone has stolen the air from his lungs, followed by a kiss that took her breath away as well. River just ran her hands up and down his chest as she tried to find the words to say.

 

He whispered again, just as softly as the last. “You can’t be real.”

 

Very gently, she took one of his hands and placed it above her left breast, making him lay his hand flat against her skin. After a few seconds, she moved it a few inches to the right. “Two hearts, Doctor.”

 

He opened his eyes and River was sad to find they glistened with tears. “You could be a copy, a very good android sent to break my hearts again,” he said painfully, but did not remove his hand from its location over a rapidly beating heart.

 

Her hearts plummeted. “Don’t do this to yourself—“

 

“I’m doing this to myself because she cannot be here. This is someone’s cruel joke, and I will not let myself fall for it. One thousand, forty-four years. I don’t see River Song for one thousand, forty-four years and then suddenly she pops out of nowhere and back into my life.

 

“But maybe you’re not an android!” he cried, the volume on his words increasing and his Scottish accent getting thicker. “ _Maybe_ my advanced age has finally gotten to me and I’ve cracked! I’m hallucinating a dead wife—“

 

“Stop this,” said River forcefully. He did stop his emotional babble, but his words were replaced with tears. Two rolled down his weathered cheeks. She reached up and held his face in both hands, kissing his cheeks and the bridge of his nose and his chin and both eyelids. He didn’t touch her at all. “You need to stop this. I’m me. I’m here.”

 

“You cannot be her,” he whispered with another tear escaping from behind closed eyes.

 

She tried to gently rake her nails along his hairline like she used to do during their more tender moments, but he pulled away from her quickly, backing up to the door of the blue box before sliding down it to the floor. There he put a hand over his face and let out a single sob, his stoic façade crumbling around him with each passing second. River darted to the floor, situating herself between sprawled legs and as close to him as possible. She took a fistful of his overcoat to pull him closer to her.

 

“Don’t—“

 

She placed her forehead against his. “Just listen. _Listen.”_

They didn’t need to touch to connect, but she needed to make it obvious to him what she was trying to do. She concentrated hard on memories only he would know, ones that she didn’t put in the diary, ones that could not be replicated and placed into an android meant to create emotional scarring. She worked on making herself more open to him, hoping he would make his way into her. All she met when she looked for his presence was a wall, a mental barricade he likely threw up centuries ago, when mourning a wife he hadn’t seen in so long it felt like he’d never see her again. He closed himself up and she needed him to be open again. He needed to open his own door before she could give him the proof he needed that she really was who she said she was.

 

“I can’t.”

 

“Please.”

 

“No!” he shouted, even though he pressed his forehead harder into hers. “I closed myself ages ago, when she said goodbye for the last time!”

 

“You can’t keep doing this,” she whispered against his lips, “denying it all when I’m actually _here.”_

“You’re not—“

 

“Shut up. Just shut up,” she said right before kissing him, catching him before he jammed his lips shut. He never could resist her—she was convinced it was physically impossible for him once she started it—and within two seconds he was kissing her back, slow and soft and tender, entirely different than it had been when she finally figured out who the greyed Scottish stranger was.

 

And there it was. She felt it. The door to his mind opened just a crack, and she was met immediately with a wave of his pain. It _hurt,_ like he punched her straight in the skull with everything he had, and she gasped around the pain that started to flood her. She had to pull back from his kisses, pushing gently on his chest to push him back to the door. It was then she found her hearts were racing, and it wasn’t from their embrace. It was the reaction to the pain pummeling her soul.

 

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” he whispered breathlessly.

 

She gulped and worked on slowing her hearts. “I knew it would.”

 

They sat there in silence for a minute. River waited for him to open the door further, to pull the stopper out of a bottle full of his pain, but he had closed himself up again. All he did was look at her with sad eyes brimming with more tears.

 

“What do I have to do to get you to believe me?” she whispered after she was sure he wasn’t going to open up again on his own.

 

“There’s nothing you can do. You’re not her.”

 

She didn’t know what else to do. Awaking his attraction only worked for a few seconds and it likely wouldn’t work again, if he’d even let her kiss him. Words weren’t working. Pleas weren’t working. A small part of her wanted to destroy something—maybe even him—just to watch him fly into a rage that would surely lower his guard, but she couldn’t do that to him, the owner of both her hearts. In her frustration she sank back onto her heels and covered her face with both hands. She had been so elated to learn that he didn’t end with the baby face and was even more elated to find that his love for her didn’t end with a new cycle of regenerations. She was sure of his love for her, but every once and awhile she’d find herself on a dark day wondering if there’d one day come a face who preferred leggy brunettes or decided he’d rather stick to just men now, thank you. She never thought it’d come to this, where he loved her but couldn’t let himself fall into it because it was just too painful to be vulnerable.

 

She did not want to cry but she couldn’t help it. He couldn’t see how much he was hurting her by denying she was back in his life. Treating her like she was an evil plan to take him down or a betrayal of his own mind. She cried behind her hands, which she hoped would hide her tears from him, but her cover was quickly blown when a shaky sob escaped her throat.

 

She felt fingertips on her bare arm and she pulled it away from him. “Do not touch me. Don’t.”

 

But the Doctor didn’t listen, and he gently grabbed onto her upper arm and tried to pull her toward him. She tried to struggle, but didn’t have it in her to really flail about. She removed her hands from face and placed a tear-soaked hand on his wrist. “I said not to touch me.”

 

“Come here,” he said tenderly with a small nod.

 

“No. You can’t tell me I’m lying to you, that I don’t exist—“

 

“I can’t stand watching someone cry.”

 

“Then don’t hurt me!” she cried, hastily removing his hand and backing away from him. “Did you think of that?! These tears are _your_ fault. You tell me you haven’t seen me in a thousand years and you’re a man starving, kiss me like you did, only to take it back when you’ve had a minute to process it and your hearts come to the conclusion they’d really rather not be broken again, so you enter some sad, _sick_  denial phase and tell me I’m _lying to you?”_

River felt it again. She was hit with another wave of his emotions, this time anger and betrayal, focused mainly at his own self. It burned slowly and deeply in her, pulsing as it whirled in her chest, but she figured it would go away shortly when he realized that in his anger he left the front door open.

 

But he never closed that door. In fact, the burning got brighter, more precise, and it radiated out of her core and into her limbs. She tried to prevent herself from making it noticeable to him that she could feel it, steeling herself up against the fire that raged inside her. She just stared into his eyes, which were intense but still lined with tears. His jaw was set and his lips were so tightly pursed she could barely see them.

 

Then the emotions changed. The heat dissipated and was quickly replaced by something incredibly sharp and stark: disappointment. Again, it was something he felt in himself, not in—

 

Suddenly, River felt another presence in her mind. The Doctor had finally let himself open up but he also went to her instead of just letting her feel him. She tried not to think about how these last few minutes felt like he was repeatedly slicing her flesh with a knife, but to think of those happy, intimate moments she had left for him earlier so he wouldn’t have to go far to find the proof he was looking for.

 

It came on slowly. It felt like static at first, tickling at the corners of her body, but the longer he lingered the more frequent and intense they became. The elation that was dawning on him was so fresh and so full of joy that she was quickly consumed with sparks on her each and every nerve. She felt like she was out of her own body because it was impossible to feel this kind of sparkle at every corner, at every curve. It was pure, and it was heaven.

 

He was letting love come back to him again.

 

She could feel he wanted to make this moment last so he took his time getting onto his hands and knees, his eyes locked on hers the entire time. He crawled the four feet between them slowly and with purpose, stopping with just an inch between their faces. He then cupped her cheek with one hand, using it as a support as he pressed a bruising kiss to her temple. The sparking around her nerves intensified, something she didn’t think was even _possible,_ and was coupled with a sincere tattoo of _sorry, sorry, sorry_ in between the fireworks coursing through her body. She felt him mouthing her name against her skin in the same repetitive motion as his apologies, like he was tasting the words for the first time and seeing how they felt across his tongue. A deep gratitude of her own swirled inside her. She felt him shudder when he felt it.

 

River reached up to remove his hand from her face as she turned to him. He looked a bit breathless, flushed and overwhelmed. He was positively enamored, and it was _beautiful_ on him. He looked so kind and hopeful, and oh, did she feel it: it was so fresh and very neon, this kind of hope. It was optimism, it was excitement.

 

With his punch-drunk smile turning into a sly smirk, the Doctor slowly leaned forward and took her lips in his. His _sorry_ turned into a battering of a million _always,_ and she gasped into his mouth as the sentiment overpowered her. He laughed brightly against her tongue as he pressed a wide palm to her back to push her into him. She could sense that he wanted to make up for a thousand years, and he’d start by touching as much of her as possible. She wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her hands through his loose grey curls, pulling on them gently to get him to gasp around her.

 

When she stopped to catch her breath, he pressed his forehead to hers. She could feel that he was fully open to her now, and he planned on never closing himself again. Not to her. Lingering around the sparks and deep rumble of desire was a solid sense of contentment. She pressed her head harder to his and gently touched his lips with her own. “Always,” she whispered, finding her voice unusually raspy with emotion. He shivered when the tenderness of that word hit him squarely in both hearts.

 

“ _Always,”_ he burned, making sure it reached into every part of her.


End file.
